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Saturday, October 31, 2015

Taking my wares to market is a great chance to break from the solitude of working in a lab. I get to shift gears and prepare my samples, set-up and costume (yes, I like to put on red lipstick).

It is an opportunity to meet people that I don't know, face to face and speak openly about what I can do for them, why I make what I make the way I do and generally hand out free swag.

Instantly I feel open, happy (after a bit of apprehension preparing) and thrilled to meet people who are curious and willing to put their guard down for a moment to come up to speak to me.

Different venues bring different clientele, values and interests. I am particularly drawn to co-ops as the members are usually very well educated about what they put in their mouths and on their bodies.

I get a chance to walk my talk.

You also never know what is going to happen.

It can be hopping and happening...or

you're all dressed up and...

nobody shows.

That is the way it was for the three years I tried the Bridal Show circuit. Boy did my feet get sore. I made a commitment to stand the entire time, meet and speak to every single person who walked by my booth and I had an assistant gather e-mails.

In three years, I received nay an order. I spent more time educating people about bespoke perfumery. Most people in the rural part of upstate NY could not wrap their heads around the concept.

It was the same when I brought massage therapy to the area. I was an ice-breaker for therapists who came years later. Some of us are ice-breakers and pioneers.

We pave the ways so others can bring the next level of expertise.

I wouldn't change that role for a minute. I truly believe in what I have to offer. Just a little bit ahead of my time perhaps.

What had begun as a dream ended as a full-blown project. Every kid in the youth center had an opportunity to participate in some way. We shared stories, food, blessings and music as each child spoke about their piece.

Moral of story: dreams are manifesting all around us - grab one and hold on tight.

Thursday, October 29, 2015

After graduating with a Bachelor of Fine Art in Communication Design - a fancy name for Graphic Designer - I found myself designing and drawing things commercially like trucks, abalone cutters and yes, I designed a logo for a condom company. A gentle feather with a bit of a tilt at the tip.

I cut my chops at a Mom and Pop printing shop on upper State Street in Santa Barbara, CA. The head designer the wife and the head of the print shop her husband.Every day was pressure packed as I typeset, rendered drawings and cut and paste pounds of galleys and images to boards. Yes, this was the old method before desktop computers. We had a lot of fun and we worked our asses off. Some big name accounts used our services as well as walk-in customers.

Needless to say, I found Graphic Design boring.

Years later I decided to take a leap and signed up for a botanical painting class at my local arts center. I immediately fell in love with the teacher's style. She was quiet and each time she said something about what I was painting it had meaning and I could immediately move to the next step. She became my painting guru.I decided to sign up for private lessons and my love of botanical painting began.

It felt fulfilling to sit in a spot in the garden, take a deep breath and begin to paint what I felt.

Although botanical painting calls for a bit of perfection - you have to catch the spirit of the plant or flower. In the moment. They change by the minute as the sun shines and they start to bloom or fade. You have only a small window of time to paint.

Part of the Aromatic Traditions™ logo contains a drawing of White Sage. A plant that is dear to me as it is used often for smudging prior to ceremonies. (I always smudge my laboratory before I begin any product).

Wednesday, October 28, 2015

The New Farm magazine was published by Rodale Press and the Rodale Institute from 1979 to 1994. During my Fall semester of 1980 at what is now called Kutztown University, I became the first photography intern at Rodale Press.

I wanted to combine my love affair with the environment with my passion for the camera. I worked this internship until I got it. (I believe it still exists?, I'm not sure though.)

No sooner than I was given the internship I was assigned many menial (but meaningful?) tasks. You see, photography interns did not exist before I came along. Frankly, I don't think they knew what to do with me.

I was fascinated by the studios, test kitchens and a particular food stylist who made the most amazing presentations with hands gnarled by rheumatoid arthritis. I started to make friends and stay late utilizing the facilities to take pictures that would later fill my portfolio.

It felt great to be part of Rodale Institute. I loved that they were "back to nature", exploratory, sustainable and family run. I was part of a family. I am still part of that family today. Farms turn me on. I love the smells, the sounds, and most of all the people that I meet a long the way.

I remember one particular photo shoot trudging in my "wellies" through pig sh*t carrying about 80 pounds of photography equipment. Anything for the perfect shot of a well run rural farm.

Later I was sent out on assignment. Looking back through some of the old books and magazines published by Rodale I still see pictures and know that is my hand holding the growing frame lid up so you can see the tomato starts.

Although the memory of that time drifts into my mind in bits. The passion for farming remains. The passion for sustainable farming in small places.

Here is a pic of the first day of my floating garden on the Multnomah Channel of the Willamette River.

I grew several pounds of Calendula (Calendula Officinalis) flowers this year. Quite a yield.

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

On a rainy day in Flagstaff, AZ, I looked out my window to see a bear naked little boy jumping up and down in mud puddles. His blonde curly hair flying and his feet stomping. It was a moment of sheer joy, a perfect photo op - I went next door to ask permission to take a picture of my neighbor's son and a restaurant was born.

We had now clue what we were doing. We had a vision. And both, from indigenous backgrounds (both Native American in part but coasts apart), wanted to share our roots. I loved gardening and wild-crafting. Maria loved her incredible heritage and the ingredients dear to her from New Mexico.

We started literally from a dirt floor up and created an amazing place, not so much a restaurant but a place of incredible heart where people of all nations and beliefs could stop by for a bite. And most certainly a chat.

Maria was bigger than life, I was shy and willing to work behind the scenes as an advocate. We certainly needed one. We were two young woman starting a business in a man's world. Inspectors, landlords, permits, construction. We handled it all. We were harassed, adored, challenged and loved. Best part of it all - we did it.

Every day we would tackle one problem or another and our battle cry was always "Fake it 'til we make it."

It gave us perspective and certainly an appreciation of the deep mystery of not knowing what the heck to do in any given moment. We sure trusted that the answer would come -- eventually.

Not always in the package you would expect. And always better.

Today the Morning Glory Cafe thrives - 30, yes, 30 years later. The wonderful ladies who run the place, whom I've yet to meet in person, but support via social media, have still got the spirit.

The spirit that endures. Making something with love for y'all to enjoy.

Monday, October 26, 2015

Some of us were adding extra layers as it had snowed. I was being chided for looking like Little Red Riding Hood as I had all of my prayer bundles gathered in a basket and a shawl with a hood pulled tight over my head.

Not to be taken too seriously, I pulled up my skirt to reveal a pair of very brightly colored leggings. One of a kind. Or so I thought.

Across the room another woman lifted her skirt and had on a similar pair. We laughed and when she asked me where I got the leggings, I told her she wouldn't know the place, it was very far away.

My family did not see me for months as I sat at my perfumer's organ creating each oil.

(I still work with them, tweaking and noticing the changes.)

The oil set is based on 15 years of teachings about the chakras, the medicine wheel and ceremony. Each oil is blessed and sits on its accompanying affirmation while marrying in the bottle for months prior to dispensing.

This set is an honoring of my teacher, her teachers before her and to all who use them to create a difference in their lives and others.

Sunday, October 25, 2015

It all started a week ago when I decided I wanted to stop being invisible. In my business and in my life.Not hide behind "fear of success", " fear of failure"...just plain fear.

I made a call to Indie Business Network owner Donna Maria and signed up for her "Stand Out Sister" one-hour phone consultation.

She blew me away.

She shined the light right in and there I was looking at my business Aromatic Traditions™ from an entirely different perspective.I was excited, I was stoked, I was ready to roll out the new website and prepare to launch...

then it happened....the fear... it came back.

Things started falling apart.

The self-sabotage mechanisms started working. My old familiar patterns started to kick in.

AND

At the same time, orders started to roll in. Old accounts called asking for new lines. New accounts wanted to launch sooner than later. Customers started to text orders.Something had shifted just enough to allow room for the next step.

I took it.

Yeah, I made one batch of product three times as I worked through the issues. I'm a little behind my schedule (getting this blog out is part of it). My dishes are pilled high in the sink.

Oh well.And the self-sabotage part of myself - I took it and my son to a ballgame this evening and then to dinner.Priceless.I'm going to be working with this fear for a long time, might as well bring it along for the ride and focus on what really counts - making memories with my family.

Saturday, October 24, 2015

Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace.

-Mary Sarton

When all else fails - I go to the garden.

Picking my first red, ripe tomato. Boy, I had to be patient waiting for just the right moment to pull this one off the vine. P-a-t-i-e-n-c-e.

I still grow tomatoes. So does my father. His father, my grandfather, did too. He would walk every night to his tomato plant down the hill step by step until his last day. I often wondered if he planted that far away as inspiration to get up and move. To remain a farmer.

Gardening is in my blood.

Before I moved to Portland, I fantasized about building a floating garden like the Aztec gardens you read about when you were a kid.

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Really! If you told me a two years ago that I would be where I am now - living on a floating home in Portland Oregon - I would have felt a little overwhelmed (to say the least).

It was a real push to pack up my home, lab and part of my family and move across the country. As soon as we unpacked, we began to renovate from the water up. Yes! We replaced the float system of old growth logs underneath or home, put in a sub-floor, later flooring, electricity and plumbing.

I am also living a bi-coastal relationship. There is nothing easy about it. You miss the cues, the little things your senses pick up about your partner. There is nothing physical about it.

Today was a really difficult day. We all have them. Sometimes we have them more than we care to. Today the sun came out and shown through my kitchen window illuminating my greenhouse and statue. A gentle reminder to stop, slow down, and take the moment IN.

Ahhhhhhh....

It is time to be grateful to everyone and everything that brought me to this moment. Sometimes I feel like I am not cut out for the life I chose because I forgot to be grateful for everything that got me here in the first place.

It is December in Wicklow:

Alders dripping, birches

Inheriting the last light,

The ash tree cold to look at.

A comet that was lost

Should be visible at sunset,

Those million tons of light

Like a glimmer of haws and rose-hips,

And I sometimes see a falling star.

If I could come on meteorite!

Instead I walk through damp leaves,

Husks, the spent flukes of autumn,...

-from "Exposure", Seamus Heaney

Commonly known as Dog rose, Dog Brier, Brier Rose, Rose hips always remind me of the coming of Fall. As a young woman, wanting to "live off the land", I would collect bright red rose hips, grind them and make a Vitamin C packed tea.

Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Lillly's Essential Products blossomed from a small plot of land and a renovated mudroom. The first product came to me while driving across the Berkshires. I remember opening the glove box and grabbing a scrap piece of paper and writing: